


Bliss in Agony

by DefiantLoon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood, F/M, Kink, Masochism, Oneshot, Reylo - Freeform, Sadism, Smut, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiantLoon/pseuds/DefiantLoon
Summary: Kylo Ren obsesses over his new scar, unable to forget Rey and the thought of what else she could have done to him when they fought.





	Bliss in Agony

**Author's Note:**

> A totally indulgent, smutty one-shot. No plot, just porn, submitted to fill this prompt from Reylohardkinks: https://reylohardkinks.tumblr.com/post/162907131058 -- Edited VERY slightly from the original post to fix typos and one or two instances of awkward phrasing.
> 
> Because the world needs more submissive, masochistic Kylo Ren.

He couldn’t stop staring at it– that long groove of scarred flesh running diagonally across his face from right temple to left shoulder. When all quieted down in the base and he knew he wouldn’t be summoned until morning, Kylo Ren stood in front of the mirror, removed his gloves, and ran his bare fingers over the burnt-in signature she’d left on him. Sometimes he caught a faint smile on his face as he touched the strangely soft, uneven skin. He tried to hide it even from himself, but his cheeks burned red the more he thought about it. He could vividly remember the look on her face; that fierce grimace as she pushed back at him. He could still feel her fury.

“Fuck,” he mumbled to himself, turning away from the mirror, rubbing his temples and trying to will away the erection that inevitably came with the memory. He’d never been so humiliated, never felt so pathetic, and yet the thought of being bowed at her feet only made him harder. It was only her. Defeat at anyone else’s hands would have made him furious. Defeat by her made him…desperate, hungry, willing to do whatever she wanted. His hands fell to his sides as his mind began to wander again, not to be stopped once that hunger awakened in him. Almost absently, he knelt down at the side of his bed and bent to press his head to the cot, breathing out with his eyes closed tight, trying to calm himself. In the end, though, the fantasy was persistent. Once the image of her was in his head, he couldn’t seem to make it go away.

He imagined that the planet hadn’t collapsed after she’d struck him. That there had been no one else there, no one to take her away, no one to distract either of them. He could see her standing over him, see her lowering her body until she straddled his waist. The darkness of her eyes as she leaned down close and touched one hand to his face, almost gentle, before her thumb pressed down hard into the wound.

He groaned out loud and knew he could no longer keep up any pretense of decorum. Half ashamed, yet half fueled by that shame, he finally unzipped and began to stroke himself, imagining that it was her other hand snaking down under his waistband and wrapping around him. Imagining that she knew what she was able to do to him without even being in his presence. He could almost really feel the pain in his scar, thinking of her lips crashing down on his, one hand jerking him, one still pressed against the burning gash on the bridge of his nose. And then she took her hand away from the wound, the kiss broken, and he gasped out a breath as the pressure was relieved and a trickle of blood ran down his nose, over his lips.

In his head she whispered, disgusted by his desperation, “ _What do you want?_ ”

Out loud he whispered, “ _Anything. Anything you’ll give me._ ”

He nearly cried out when she let go, her hand trailing back up to his stomach, tracing agonizingly delicate little circles over his hips. On impulse he grabbed around her around the wrist and squeezed. Her free hand went right back to the wound and he hissed, immediately releasing her to grab handfuls of snow at his sides, the biting cold mingling with the sharp pain that seemed to run all through him.

Back in reality he began to press on the scar himself, still masturbating with the other hand. He pressed until he drew blood and could taste it. In the fantasy he saw her pull back from him and look down at the shuddering mess he was, her eyes impassive, her fingers colored with his blood. She didn’t have to say anything to get him to start begging.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispered, hearing his own hoarse voice both in his head and against the walls of his quarters. “ _Please_ ,  _I’d do anything._ ”

She leaned down again, one hand back at his hip, one finger trailing down in a serpentine motion, then coming to a stop. His desperation rose.

“ _You could kill me_ ,” he breathed.  _“You could kill me whenever you want, just please, fuck, let me finish.”_

Suddenly her hand enveloped him again, quick and tight, and the world seemed to go dim around him. He stopped pressing the scar and grasped onto the sheets with his free hand, head still bent against the cot, specks of sweat and blood dripping onto the floor. He lost himself completely in the orgasm, hips bucking, breath coming out in short gasps, forgetting entirely where he was and who he was and just about everything but Rey, Rey, Rey, Rey…

And then it was over. He slumped back onto his ankles, one shaking hand still held out in front of him as he tilted his head back and tried desperately to steady himself. His face burned, his head swam, and for a moment he thought he might pass out. He pulled himself up and, not bothering to adjust his clothing, collapsed on the bed.

The room was silent, and he was alone. His breath began to slow and the fantasy shifted without him even really putting effort into it anymore. His head was in her lap. Her thin fingers ran through his hair and her voice whispered into his foggy mind something soft and comforting, though the words themselves seemed so far away. Vaguely, he wondered if it was really her in his head, whispering to him. He let himself believe it as his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

—-

Somewhere far away, Rey jolted awake, suddenly upright, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe. Her face felt like she’d somehow gotten a fierce sunburn overnight, and her hands trembled as she lifted them from her sheets and searched for bloodstains in the darkness. Nothing. But she was warm all over, wet between her legs, and physically shaken from the memory of what she’d seen in her mind. That huge, dark figure underneath her. The strange softness in his eyes, the intensity of his begging, the inexplicable pleasure she felt in having this terrifying war machine completely under her control.

Rey gave a long, slow exhale and forced herself back down to the pillow, trying to focus on the sound of insects outside of her little hut. Yet her heart continued to race, and she knew that nothing could get those images out of her head.

Frankly, she wasn’t so sure she wanted them gone.


End file.
